Flash of Genius
by kkbeatlesfan
Summary: A bad accident causes "Stephen Colbert" to recieve amnesia, and he doesn't recognize his wife or kids... only his friend Jon Stewart. Jon/Stephen in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Flash of Genius

**Author: **kkbeatlesfan

**Characters/Pairings: **Jon Stewart, "Stephen Colbert"

**Rating: **Probably R… for language.

**Disclaimer: A**ll television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**Author's Note: I've been writing this new story for quite a while, and a big chunk of it is finished and ready to post with a couple of minor corrections, so updates **_**should **_**come along pretty quickly. I say **_**should **_**because I'm still not sure if that'll be cold-hard fact or not. But anyway, I just couldn't stay away from the Jon and Stephen fandom for long since completing **_**I Just Want the Truthiness! **_**so I came up with this, and I'm really hoping that this silly little story has more merit to it than those stupid soap operas (sorry to all fans of soap operas) where someone gets amnesia and then they're totally fine a day later. I hope that this story is dramatic (but not overly dramatic), humorous, and romantic all in one. And I need you, my dear reader, to tell me if I've achieved that. Thanks!**

Stephen Colbert had worked painstakingly for over fifteen minutes to get that damned picture straight. Well, his newest diploma straightly framed on the wall of his cluttered office, to be exact. The newest edition was an honorary degree from the prestigious Harvard University, and the oak-framed symbol of his high status would not hang straight on the nail on the light cream-colored wall. He would stand on his black leather rolling chair next to his steel desk and fiddle around with it until he was under the impression that it looked most satisfactory, until he jumped down from the chair to find that either the left or the right side was slightly off-kilter. Pausing for a moment to stand back and frame it with his hands just as a talented film director would frame up a complex shot, then silently curse as he would hop up to the higher level again.

Jon Stewart waltzed by his good friend's office just as he was about to stand up on the desk for the umpteenth time. He was paying him sort of a surprise visit for Stephen's birthday, May 13th, with a wrapped gift and a frosted cupcake in hand. He and the other _Daily Show _correspondents were set to film a _Colbert Report _segment together that day. He rapped loudly on the door frame, which made Stephen jump and almost take a long tumble to the charcoal-carpeted floor.

"Jon…?" Stephen pressed as he whirled around and nearly dropped the frame.

"I just wanted to tell you happy birthday!" he said with a smirk while offering the chocolate cupcake covered in swirls of blue butter cream frosting and topped off with a small plastic ring. The ring was probably meant for a small child with R2D2 from Star Wars on it, but Stephen loved Star Wars, so why the hell not?

"What's all this? A cupcake? Are you trying to make me a diabetic or just fat?" he joked without cracking a smile.

"I don't believe we were shooting for either," Jon chuckled as he lit the candle in the center.

"Am I supposed to make a wish?"

"Wish away, buddy."

Stephen closed his chocolate-brown eyes tightly and seemed to be entranced in thought for a moment before he opened them and met Jon's gaze. He blew out the flame in a strong puff, and watched the intricate swirl of gray smoke uncurl into the air.

"Hopefully it won't set off the sprinklers," he laughed.

"What did you wish for?"

"I can't tell. Everyone knows that… I want it to come true!"

"Okay, if you want to play it that way. But if you get so old and senile where you can't remember what you wished for, don't come crying to me."

"Trust me, I won't. You're two years older than I am, anyway."

Jon facepalmed as Stephen unwrapped the delicious, overly-decorated cupcake. He carefully ripped it in half symmetrically and held up a half for Jon.

"Do you want half of this?"

Jon hadn't had anything for breakfast besides a cup of coffee, so he gratefully accepted. As he took the first bite, a blob of blue-dyed frosting smeared across his lower lip.

"That was unfortunate."

Jon quickly reached up and swiped it away quickly with the back of his right hand. He laughed.

They finished the cupcake together in utter silence, occasionally looking at each other and giggling like naughty schoolboys. Jon stood up from his seat at the edge of the metal desk and threw the cupcake wrapper into the trashcan by the door.

"Nothing but net," he scoffed as the wrapper went in.

"Thanks again for all this, Jon. The cupcake was really good," he said in an almost childlike voice as he licked frosting off his fingertips.

"Oh! I almost forgot…"

"You're getting senile already?"

"No," Jon retorted, "Tracey and I got you a present."

He handed Stephen the loosely-wrapped blue gift bag with a smile.

"The kids wanted to wrap it for Uncle Stephen."

"Aww, that's sweet."

Stephen unwrapped the bag slowly and reached into a mass of tissue paper to find a small wooden box.

"What's this?" he asked with a crookedly raised eyebrow. He carefully opened the lid to find a beautiful gold watch.

"Come on, Jon, you guys didn't have to do this!"

"We wanted to! You're one of our closest friends! Here, just look at the back…"

Stephen turned over the smooth watch face in his hand and read the message engraved in the gold.

"To my friend, Stephen. Try not to choke on that banana," he read aloud.

Stephen began laughing so hard that he snorted at the engraving.

"It all happened all those years ago with the banana gag and we're still talking about it?"

"That was one of my favorite moments of all the years I've been here… when you broke character like that."

"Thanks, Jon… it really means a lot," he said as he uncharacteristically leaned over to his dear friend and enveloped him in a hug.

"You're welcome, Stephen," he said as he stood up from the desk and headed for the door.

"Jon… wait, can you help me quick?"

"Yeah… with what?"

"I need you to tell me if the picture is straight when I hang it, I've been trying to hang this for the past half hour."

"So… maybe we should have bought you a laser level instead of a gold watch?" Jon joked.

Without another word, Stephen stepped onto the rolling desk chair with the framed diploma in hand as he carefully and accurately hung it on its nail on the first try. He stood to the side to admire his work, and Jon cocked his head to glance at it.

"That looks straight enough to me."

Stephen hopped down again, stood next to Jon, and did the classic "Spielberg" move to view the frame.

"I don't know… it looks to be leaning a little to the left to me."

"_Everything _always leans a little too far to the left for you… politically…"

"Ha, ha. Very funny. I'm going to try to fix it one more time."

"Why? It looks perfectly stra…" Jon began as Stephen jumped on the desktop again. He fiddled with it again for his conservative liking, then did a quarter turn to face Jon.

"Now is it straight?"

"I can't really see it… move out of the way a little."

Jon wished he never had said that as Stephen tried to step away from his masterpiece and the chair slid out from underneath him. He crashed down seemingly in slow motion. Jon's breath caught the back of his throat as he heard the crunch of both the glass of the frame and Stephen's glasses scatter across the floor. When Jon opened his eyes again, he was horrified at what he witnessed: Stephen's forehead connected with the corner of the cold, steel desk with a horrible thud, and now he was lifeless on the charcoal-shaded floor.

"Oh my God! Stephen!" he gasped as he watched a stream of crimson blood stain his forehead from a three-inch long wound. He immediately collapsed to the floor next to him as he loosened the blue tie around his neck. Stephen's eyes were closed, and a piece of glass from the frame was embedded in his hand. Jon was usually queasy around blood, but something just kicked into action once he saw his suffering friend. Jon whipped out his silk purple pocket square from his black suit jacket and placed it directly on the wound, making sure to keep even pressure on it just like he had seen in all those videos in health class in junior high.

"Stephen… stay with me, buddy," he yelled as he lightly tapped the sides of his face. Stephen was unresponsive, and Jon knew he needed someone else in the office to call 911.

"HELP!" he screamed shrilly. It was so ear-splitting that it was impossible for at least one person not to hear it.

Luckily, John Oliver burst into the office with a horrified expression.

"Jon, was that just y…" his voice trailed off once he saw the blood-soaked area. "Oh my God! Is that Stephen?"

"Call 911!" Jon huffed as he hovered over his friend's lifeless body. His face was now incredibly pale, and his gorgeously soft, usually pink lips were now paste white.

John immediately grabbed his cell phone and dialed while his fingers fumbled with the digits.

_Shit, Stephen! Wake up! You can't die on your birthday! _Jon thought.

Jon felt Stephen's breathing patterns become increasingly shallow as blood dripped from his forehead to the collar of his clean white shirt as it had already soaked through the makeshift bandage. Jon swiped away the beads of sweat on his forehead with a swipe of his arm before he leaned down to listen to Stephen's heart beating.

_If the ambulance comes soon, he'll be okay. _Jon assured.

"We have a man here, and I think he hit his head pretty hard, and he's losing a lot of blood!" John yelled at the dispatcher.

"Okay, sir, I'm sending an ambulance," the woman on the other line reported, "But just keep him still and find a new bandage!"

Stephen's once smiling and energetic face now looked pale and sickly, and Jon could hardly bear to look at him. John rushed down the hallway with the phone still pressed to his ear as he searched for the first aid kit that was positioned on the wall.

It seemed like an eternity to Jon until John Oliver returned with that damned kit. John finally arrived with enough bandages to rewrap a mummy as he knelt down by Stephen.

"I'll bandage his hand!" he said as he pulled at the roll of medical tape.

Jon grabbed a stack of gauze and carefully removed the other bandage to place the white material over the cut. It would be enough until the professionals arrived, anyway. John had dispatched Samantha Bee to lead the EMTs upstairs to get Stephen.

"Just hang in there… someone is coming to take you to the hospital," Jon soothed as he wiped Stephen's unruly dark brown hair away from his forehead.

Ten minutes later, the emergency specialists had taken Stephen away to a hospital about six blocks away while he was strapped to a stretcher with bandages wrapped around his head and hand. He had lost so much blood that the medical team reported to Jon that he'd probably require a blood transfusion, and he had suffered a severe concussion but they left so abruptly that Jon couldn't ask any more questions. Jon left the office as the janitors arrived to clean up the blood stains on the carpet, and he silently wished that he could just be there with Stephen to at least hold his hand in that ambulance so he wouldn't be so frightened by all those blaring sirens and flashing lights.

"Jon," John Oliver pulled him aside as he poured himself a cool cup of water from the water cooler, "Your clothes are soaked with blood… you should go change."

Jon looked down at his well-cut suit to find that it was now splattered in Stephen's blood. It made him almost sick to his stomach, and he couldn't think about anything else. He finally agreed to go take a shower to get cleaned up, and then he could take a walk down to the hospital to see how Stephen was doing.

It truly sickened Jon to see all the blood that he rinsed off down the drain in the shower. He quickly stepped out and got dressed, and without combing his dampened silver hair, he headed out to the hospital.

Jon had walked to the medical center seemingly on autopilot, because he had no recollection on his trip over there. He could have walked out in the middle of a crosswalk when the neon sign read, "DON'T WALK" for all he knew, all he cared about was getting to Stephen.

"Is there a St…Stephen Colbert here?" he stuttered to the middle-aged brunette secretary.

"Um… let me check…" she typed into her computer until she raised an eyebrow, "Yes, there is a Stephen ColberT on this list, but here it says that he is still being examined."

"Where's the nearest waiting room?"

"There's a waiting room right in the emergency wing, so you can wait there," she said as she pointed him in the right direction.

"Thanks," he said as he stumbled away.

"Are you family?" she caught him.

"Yeah…" Jon lied, "I'm his… brother."

"Well, then I can have the doctor notify you when you can see him if you'd like."

"Thanks, please do."

He walked away feeling no remorse about lying to the woman. No one else had showed up yet to see how he was doing, and everyone at the office told him to report back, so he figured out a way. His mind all of a sudden hit a roadblock.

_Oh my God, Evie still doesn't know! _he gasped, referring to Stephen's wife.

Jon looked at his watch to notice that it had already been two hours since the accident happened and his wife was still left in the dark about it. He decided to step outside for a moment to call John to have someone tell her, because he was just to emotionally distraught. He didn't want to terrify her, after all. Jon's fingers were barely able to type the numbers on the keypad, and his hand was trembling horribly as he waited for John to pick up.

"Have you heard anything yet?" John asked immediately.

"Not yet. They're still examining him, but did anyone call Evie yet?"

"Yeah, Samantha called her. She's on her way."

"I don't want her to freak out!" Jon cried.

"Just be there to comfort her when she shows up. I'm sure Stephen will be fine, anyway."

"I hope so, John," he said softly as he hung up.

He headed back inside to the emergency waiting room, where he was greeted by numerous screaming children accompanied by their parents and battered men that looked like they had gotten into a bar fight. He looked around for a seat, and picked to sit in the corner directly opposite of the television hanging in the other corner of the room. He wasn't going to draw attention to himself, especially in case someone recognized him. He grabbed an old issue of_ Time _magazine and pretended to read to hide the lone tear that was streaming down his cheek.

Stephen Colbert was not in good shape. His face was battered by the sharp edge of the metal desk and the shards of broken glass had caused numerous lacerations on his body that in total required more than 40 stitches. His head was in the worst pain ever, and he could barely keep his tired eyes open through all the throbbing. And, to top it all off, he had broken his left wrist for the second time in his life, only this time it was much more painful than the first. Luckily, they had given him plenty of strong pain medication to keep him from crying in front of the pretty nurses. The first person on his mind was Jon, because his soothing voice was the last he had heard before drifting off into unconsciousness.

He was suddenly pulled from the darkness as he heard a deep male voice saying his name.

_Stephen? Stephen? Mr. ColberT?_ The doctor droned. All of a sudden, his eyelids were yanked upward and a flash of bright light entered his pupils. He felt like reaching up and punching the prick who was doing that, but he couldn't move. He flicked his eyes open and his gaze met his doctor's.

_Good, Stephen. Very good. He's waking up! _the buffoon reported.

Stephen's throat felt extremely dry, but he still uttered something to the doctors and nurses who were hovering over him.

"It's Colbert," he spoke the French pronunciation through gritted teeth. His voice was reduced to a whisper, so none of them actually heard him.

"How are you feeling, Mr. ColberT?"

"Water…" he gasped.

"Right," the man said as he grabbed a paper cup of water and a nurse pressed a button on a remote to prop his head up. He stuck the cup under Stephen's lips and he was relieved to feel the cool water brush past his palate. He swallowed quickly.

"Why am I here?" he whispered, his voice breaking.

"You fell off a chair when you were trying to hang a picture in your office at work," one of the nurses explained as she read his charts. Stephen looked down at the straps that were stretched across his legs and torso, then the thin, white cotton hospital gown he was wearing with small blue flowers printed on it.

"Why am I strapped to the bed?"

"We didn't want you to move right away, because you took quite a blow to the head when you fell. You lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion."

Stephen then noticed the needle jutting out from the crook of his arm that was attached to a tube which was connected to an IV bag. He was also attached to an array of beeping monitors, and his head felt like it was being squeezed. His left arm was in a clean, white cast again stretching from his wrist to his forearm, but he didn't feel that anymore either thanks to the _drip, drip, drippy _thing that was feeding him happy meds through a tube.

"Do I have to be strapped down anymore?" he asked drowsily. He could barely keep his eyes open any longer, and him being strapped to the bed made it seem like some kind of bad porno movie in all the pain he was in.

"No, I guess not, but try not to move around too much," the dark-haired doctor said as he gestured to the nurses to unbuckle the straps.

Stephen looked up at the ceiling for a moment to try to remember what exactly happened, but he was drawing a blank on most of it. He just recalled that gorgeous Jon's voice soothing him…

"Is someone in here looking for a Stephen Colbert?" a young, blond nurse asked from the doorway of the dingy waiting room. Jon immediately dropped the magazine and stood up.

"I… I'm his… brother," he stuttered.

"Well, Doctor Smithson is allowing visitors for him now," she explained.

Jon finally took a deep breath and began to follow her down the bleach-white corridors that smelled of a horrid disinfectant. He absolutely hated the look and smell of hospitals: it reminded him of the nearing possibility of death. His eyes were red and bloodshot, partly from crying about Stephen and also on account of the horrible hospital smell, and the nurse almost seemed a little concerned about his appearance.

"Okay, he's right in this room. Room 225," she said as she opened the steel door.

As Jon stepped into the dimly-lit room where all the curtains were drawn and quickly brushed past the empty bed where a roommate could move in. Just past the dingy curtain, he found his dear friend wrapped up in bandages, his eyelids slightly swollen, and his handsome brown eyes shut off from the rest of the world.

"Stephen?" the nurse asked, "You have a visitor."

Stephen slowly opened his eyes and stared blankly over to Jon. His expression seemed to brighten a little when their gazes met, but he soon winced in pain when he tried to move.

"Jon…" he gasped, "Thanks for coming."

Jon briskly pulled up a chair next to the right side of the bed. Stephen was pretty beat-up, but that smile of his could always brighten his day. The color had somewhat returned to his face, and the doctors and nurses had cleaned him up. The nurse took one last look at his monitors before exiting.

"Nice to see you, buddy," Jon murmured.

"Were you there when this happened to me?"

Jon thought for a moment and reached out to grasp his uninjured hand. He stroked the back of his hand with his thumb until he felt Stephen tighten his grip.

"Were you there?" Stephen asked again.

"Yeah… yes I was," Jon replied as he pulled back his hand. "I'm… I'm sorry…"

"For what?"

Jon looked at Stephen blankly. He was never one to hold hands with other guys before, so why wasn't he phased by it now?

"I'm… I'm just sorry this happened to you."

"Oh, yeah, me too. I hope I heal soon so I can get back to work."

Jon glanced at Stephen's right arm, and it had a stitched gash that was about three inches long covered up with a thick pad of gauze, then an IV needle jutting from the crook of his arm.

"I think you will, Stephen. Just hang in there. Evie is on her way to see you right now."

A flash of confusion struck across Stephen's face in an instant. He thought for a moment before replying.

"Evie? Who is Evie?" he said in a serious tone.

Jon was almost certain he was just playing a joke, so he shook it off and even giggled a little.

"Come on, that's not very nice."

"No, seriously, who is she?"

Jon started to grow concerned. _Does he have amnesia? But if that's the case, why the hell would he remember me and not his wife? _he thought.

"She…" he began, not quite knowing where to go. He decided to change the subject instead, "How do you feel? You don't hurt too much, do you?"

He shook his head slightly. "No, not really if I stay still."

"Do you need anything? I'll go get it for you," Jon offered.

"I _am _thirsty. Maybe another cup of water?"

"Okay, I'll go get some."

With that, Jon briskly headed down the hallway, trying to find the water cooler, but mostly trying to spot the nurse who led him in there. He needed to know if Stephen had a severe concussion and couldn't remember certain things about his life, because it would be quite awkward if Evie showed up and he had no recollection of her. He spotted her at the nurse's station, scribbling on a clipboard, and he flagged her down to catch her attention.

"What is it?" she asked, looking highly concerned. "Is there something wrong with Stephen?"

"Yes… well, sort of… he doesn't remember his wife…"

"I'll have to get Dr. Smithson to examine him again. We weren't sure if he had amnesia or not when he first woke up, because he seemed so alert!"

"Wait a minute… you're telling me that you were just going to let visitors in there… his kids, his wife, without knowing if he'll even recognize them?!" Jon spat.

"Sir, I understand your concern, and I will get Dr. Smithson right away…"

She padded down the hallway with her clipboard in hand without taking even a second look at Jon. If she had, she probably would have been terrified at the pissy look he was giving every person of the hospital staff. He ran his fingers through his silvery hair for a moment as he backed against the wall. He couldn't believe that this was happening to his best friend, and he didn't know if he'd ever get his memory back to where it once was.

**A/N: Wow! Kind of a lengthy first chapter, wasn't it? Well, I'm counting on you to leave me a lengthy review to match it with all your thoughts and concerns. No pressure. :D I just wanted this first part to give some good information for the next part… so yeah. Long stories. -kkbeatlesfan**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Flash of Genius

**Author: **kkbeatlesfan

**Characters/Pairings: **Jon Stewart, "Stephen Colbert"

**Rating: **R, for language.

**Disclaimer: A**ll television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**Author's Note: Hey! I'm back! First of all, I would like to give a big thank-you to Annber03, my first reviewer to this story, and loyal reviewer to my other Jon and Stephen stories! Thank you so much! Okay, here we go…**

Stephen had asked the kind nurse to close the curtains for him, because the bright afternoon sunlight was beginning to give him a headache. He was usually one to spend sunny days outside with his wife and kids on weekends, but he couldn't recall any of that now. He tilted his head away from the door leading to the hallway, because he was sick and tired of all the nurses popping in and out checking his blood pressure and asking him if he needed anything. He had only been there for a few hours and was already planning his escape.

_Who in the hell is Evie? _he thought as he softly closed his eyes. He couldn't see much detail with them anyway without his corrective lenses. _I don't remember Jon mentioning Evie before…_

Suddenly his eyes snapped open again. His plan to make the nurses think that he was sleeping wasn't going to work that way. He looked up to find a woman with shoulder-length brown hair, but she wasn't dressed in the usual hospital scrubs.

_Come on, did they send a fucking psychologist to analyze me now? When can I just get some fucking sleep? _he thought. _Well, on second thought, if she's a psychiatrist, maybe she could prescribe me some good sleeping pills… _

"Stephen!" she cried as she sat down next to his bed and began to stroke his hand, being sure not to knock over any of the beeping monitors and such. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

"I… uh… I don't think 'okay' is the proper word…" he groaned, in hopes of securing a prescription to a higher dose of pain medication. He did find it a little odd that she was stroking his hand, though. The feeling of it wasn't the same as when Jon touched his hand warmly.

"Do you want me to let you sleep for awhile, Sweetie?" she asked, noticing his angered expression.

"Well, I am pretty tired!" he faked a smile as he pondered her prior statement: _Sweetie? What the hell is that all about?_

"I'll go grab some lunch and let you rest, then. I'm sorry I bothered you."

With that, she leaned over his bed and kissed him on the lips softly, being careful not to bump the bandaged wound on his forehead. His eyes widened as she walked out.

_What kind of hospital is this? Do all the nurses just kiss their patients like that?!_

Stephen wracked his brain for five minutes until he spotted a blurry figure waltz through the doorway that appeared to be Jon.

"Here's your water," he said as he pulled up a chair again and handed him the full cup. Stephen's hand trembled slightly as he reached out and grasped it, then moved it to his lips and took a long sip.

"Awww… _shit…" _he sighed heavily as he placed the cup on the bedside table before tiredly rubbing his eyes.

"What? Does the water taste _that _bad?" Jon smirked.

"No, it's not that… a nurse was just in here… well, at least I _think _she was a nurse, but maybe one of those liberal psychiatrists or something… and she leaned down and kissed me before she left the room!"

A flash of confusion flushed over Jon's face as he heard this.

"What the hell kind of hospital is this?" he questioned without thinking of his friend's condition.

"That's what I wanted to know! I mean, she was kind of pretty, but still… it's not professional."

"Seduced in a hospital… almost sounds like the plot of a porn flick, doesn't it?" Jon laughed.

"It's not fucking _funny!_" Stephen snapped as he grasped Jon's hand. "I don't want that kind of thing here! I just want to get better and get out!"

Jon's attention wasn't grasping the words that were coming out of Stephen's mouth: it was on his hand being covered by Stephen's. It felt soft, warm and welcoming, but Jon still didn't know what the hell was going on, so he just left it there. His friend needed him after all, and a little man-on-man handholding between friends couldn't hurt after all, could it?

"I don't want to be here," Stephen sighed as he tugged at a loose string on his ill-fitting hospital gown.

"I know, but you've got to stay for a while so they can run some more tests… Maybe they'll let me take you outside or something when you get better."

"The sun gives me a headache now."

"I'm sorry… maybe we can go out when you feel better."

His expression brightened slightly before asking, "Go out? You and me?"

Jon looked down at his hand again to find his fingers lovingly entwined with Stephen's. _Does he seriously like me… like that? What kind of meds did they put him on? _Jon asked himself. No, it just couldn't be. Stephen loved his wife, his kids, and everything about his life before, and a touch of amnesia wasn't about to ruin it for him.

"Stephen…" he sighed, "What do you remember… about us?"

"Us?" he repeated. "Well, I remember that one night when we both stayed in the office really late one night and shared a piece of pizza together when everyone else went home… and I remember biting you on the ear at some awards show… which one was it?"

"The Comedy Awards… and that really hurt, too," he explained before realizing the extent of Stephen's answer, along with the tightened grip on his hand and the beautiful smile on his face. He shot him a quick, unknowing glare that actually made him jump slightly.

"Is that all you remember?!" Jon snapped

"Yes… that's about it," he replied timidly as he slid further under the sheets. "Why? Is there more that I _should _remember?"

He wanted just to shake him and tell him that he should be remembering his wife and kids, and hopefully someday, his anniversary and his family members' birthdays, but Stephen was too frail to break the news to.

"No," he replied, his deep voice almost a whisper in the dark, "it'll all come back to you…someday. I should really just let you rest…"

Jon stood up from his chair and loosed Stephen's vise-like grip on his hand before heading for the door.

"What is it you're not telling me?" Stephen cried with a worried expression.

"Nothing, I just want you to get some sleep," Jon sputtered as he quickly slipped through the door without another word.

"Jon! Jon! Come back here!" Stephen called out.

_It was going to be one hell of a long day._

When Jon arrived at the fifth floor hospital cafeteria, he just wanted a simple cup of coffee. Actually, it felt more like he was in need of a stiff drink, but a quick shot of espresso would have to do considering the location. Steam uncurled through the hole in the lid of the paper cup as he also examined the cookie selection before choosing a delicious, chewy, chocolate chip delight. He paid for the items before heading out into the eating area, which was quite outdated in the decorating with wooden paneling walls, framed paintings of fruit every few feet, and simple wooden tables and kitchen chairs. The tables were mostly occupied by doctors and nurses in blue-green hospital scrubs, but there was an occasional family member of a patient. He found the most important one in the room, the person he desperately needed to talk to, seated at a table in the corner with her nose buried in a book: Evelyn.

"Evie!" Jon called out as he headed in her direction with his meal in hand. She looked up to see him, and quickly ushered him over. Jon sat down across the table and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Evie, I'm sorry you had to see him like that…" he sputtered.

"He doesn't remember me right now, does he?" she said solemnly as he glanced back down at the table. Jon was taken off guard by her abrupt question.

"Well… to be honest, no… not right now… but he will!" he replied hopefully.

"I just don't understand. He knows you just fine?"

"Yeah… it's strange. I don't know how that ever happened, but I've talked with the doctors and they say that his memory should come back within a couple weeks."

"A couple weeks?" she cried, a single tear rolling down her cheek, "I want my husband back, the one that will kiss the kids goodnight and actually _remember _who I am! Does he even remember our children?"

"I really don't know," he reached across the table and grasped her hand just as he had done with Stephen's, "but I think it'll all come back to him soon."

Evie swiped away her tears with the back of her other hand.

"I hope so… because he seemed really out of it when I saw him."

Jon let go of Evie's right hand and broke his chocolate chip cookie in half, and offered one half to her.

"Want some?" he said with a slight smirk to hopefully lighten the mood.

"Thanks," she replied as she grabbed it. They took the first bite at the same time and sighed simultaneously, partly for the deliciousness of the cookie, part for the mental unrest of their beloved friend and husband.

Jon and Evie walked side by side down the long, white hallways in the wing where Stephen was located. They were going to ask the doctor for all the information they needed before going back in there, and they weren't going to settle for any less. They had the nurse's station call him down from his many emergency calls, and fifteen minutes later, he showed up.

"I don't have much time to talk…"

"We need you to answer our questions," Evie pleaded, "Stephen doesn't remember me at all!"

"Your husband Stephen took a pretty hard blow to the head, which caused a serious concussion. By my timeline, I think that his memory will come back fully within the next two weeks or so, but until then, he needs to stay here for a couple days before going home."

"Home? How is it home for him when he doesn't even remember what his real home is like?" Jon snapped.

"Well, only time will tell, but I've seen a few cases like this before where the patient improves if they are exposed to the people and places they _do _remember, then they start to ease back into their everyday life."

"The only person he seems to remember is Jon, and he can't…"

"Evie, I can talk to him and ask him, maybe where his favorite place is, so we can go there to refresh his memory for a while."

"You don't have to do that, Jon, I couldn't ask you to," another tear rolled down her cheek.

"I _want _to. I really want to see Stephen regain his memory, and if this is the way we have to go, I'll do it."

Evie wiped away her tears as she nodded to the doctor and thanked him as he walked away to examine another patient. She hadn't felt so much worry in her entire life, and now it seemed like her life with the man she loved so much was hanging in the balance.

Without the use of his glasses, Stephen's life was a living hell. The blurred images of life around him gave him a splitting headache more than bright sunlight, and he just wished someone would grant him some corrective lenses as he laid painfully in bed, his bare feet propped up on a pillow at the end of his mattress. Just anything, even a monocle would do, even if he did look like the Planter's Peanut with his swollen, bandaged skull.

Just as Stephen was about to reach for another sip of water from the paper cup that Jon had so kindly brought him, he heard the usual shuffling footsteps coming into his room from behind the curtain. He swiftly sank beneath the covers and closed his eyes in hopes of helping his throbbing head, only to hear Jon's voice call out to him once again.

"Stephen, wake up!" he prompted.

Stephen jumped up quickly and almost made Jon shudder. He was haphazardly sprawled across the bed, and it looked like he was pretty close to falling on the cold tile floor, which would pull all the curled wires and cords he was sporting loose.

"Get me out of this hellhole!" he screamed as he flailed his heavily-bandaged arms, the IV tubes wavering with them.

Jon couldn't help but laugh, and he was actually glad he did when he saw a small smirk crease from Stephen for the first time since the accident.

"What's up, Jon? You were gone for a pretty long time," he said, his brown eyes shining. More of his medication must have been kicking in, to go from a screaming fit to totally calm in a matter of moments.

"Oh, I went to the cafeteria to grab something to eat… I didn't have much for breakfast."

"Do they have good food up there? The nurse just brought me some Jell-O to eat, and it tasted like shit," he laughed.

"Really? How could they screw that up?"

"I have no idea… it was sort of runny," he cringed as he gestured over to his bedside table.

Jon looked over to see the gelatinous red mass on a tray, surrounded by a mote of crimson liquid.

"It looks pretty bad," he commented.

Stephen rubbed his eyes in hopes of soothing his horrible headache, but nothing was working.

"When can I get out of here?"

"That's really what I came in here to talk to you about. I want to know where your favorite place is, so maybe we could take a little vacation there when you get out!"

His facial expression immediately brightened again, flashing that 1,000-watt grin.

"Do you really mean that, or are you just teasing me?"

"No, I'm serious! I'll take off work, and we'll take a road trip to anywhere you want."

Stephen stared longingly at the ceiling for a moment before making his choice: "I want to go back to South Carolina for a while… maybe rent a nice little cottage on the beach or something for the week."

Jon knew that Stephen had always loved his home state of South Carolina. He was even considered the state's favorite son now.

"Okay, I'll make all the arrangements," Jon agreed with a grin. He reached out to shake his hand, and Stephen weakly grasped it and smiled again.

"Thank you, Jon."

"You're welcome, Stephen."

Jon spent another two hours by Stephen's side before leaving to go home to see Tracey and the kids.

**Author's Note: Yay! Two chapters down, and an indefinite number to go! Haha! Anyway, please review! You don't know how much it means to me… I get really excited when I see an email from FanFiction in my inbox! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Flash of Genius

**Author: **kkbeatlesfan

**Characters/Pairings: **Jon Stewart, "Stephen Colbert"

**Rating: **R, for language.

**Disclaimer: A**ll television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**A/N: Chapter three! Yay! I apologize for angry "Stephen's" choice of vocabulary along the way in this story… he gets a little… potty mouthed. Haha, anyway, enjoy it!**

"Hey, Trace, I'm home!" Jon called out as he entered the dimly-lit but well-decorated apartment. Tracey stepped out of the kitchen to greet him as she wiped the last dish clean with a white wash rag. Nate and Maggie could be heard quietly giggling in the other room.

"Hey, Hon," she greeted as she kissed him quickly on the lips. "I heard about Stephen."

"Really? From who?" Jon asked, surprised.

"John called. He told me the whole story… I feel so bad for him! How's he doing?"

"He doesn't look too pretty, but he's okay, I guess. He's got a broken wrist and a few cuts and scrapes that needed stitches, and a pretty bad concussion."

"A concussion? How bad?"

"He…" Jon paused to think about his statement, "he doesn't remember much… he doesn't even remember Evie, but he remembers me."

"Oh my God… seriously?"

"Yeah…" he replied sheepishly, "but the doctor thinks it'll all come back to him in a matter of weeks."

"How is he going to go home like that? Without recognizing Evie and the kids?"

"That's actually what I was just going to tell you about," he began, "The doctor said he should spend time with people he _does _recognize, and visit places he remembers, to speed the process along a little bit."

"So… what are you saying… he's going to stay with us? I mean, we've got an extra bed and everything…"

"Uh, I actually offered to take him down to South Carolina, you know, just to visit the beach, maybe rent a little beach house for a week or something. He always likes going down there on vacation. The Lowlands down by Charleston are his favorite."

Tracey's face brightened. "_You're _going to nurse Stephen back to health? All by yourself?"

"Yeah, he'll be okay with me…"

"You can barely remember to feed the goldfish when I'm not around!" she giggled. "Please, you can take him down there, but all I ask of you is to answer my daily phone calls so I can remind you to feed Stephen three square meals a day!"

"Oh, come on, honey… we'll be just fine," Jon smiled.

"So, I guess you'd better start making those reservations for that beach house before it all fills up!"

Jon walked into the bedroom and grabbed his laptop off the desk before plopping down onto the soft mattress. He quickly flicked it open, logged on, opened up a web browser and began searching for the perfect, picturesque vacation location on the beaches of South Carolina. He eventually found a nice little cottage on the beachfront far away from the big city that offered "A beautiful view," "two spacious bedrooms," and "a nearby restaurant," which Jon thought would be perfect, considering he wasn't exactly a professional chef. The sand, the surf, and the house looked great, so Jon immediately contacted the resort and reserved an opening for the next week. That would allow about three days for Stephen's hospital care, if need be, and if he came home a little early, he could stay with Jon and Tracey for a night.

"I found something!" Jon called out to Tracey as he poured over the photographs of the vacation home. Tracey came in seconds later and sat down on the bed next to him as he wrapped his arm tightly around her waist.

"Look at this… this is perfect," Jon gushed as he tilted the screen in her direction.

"Oh, that is cute!" she agreed with a beautiful smile, "I love the little screened-in porch facing the ocean!"

"I know… I think we can have fun there. Get off work for a week, have a guy's vacation…"

"I hope you guys have fun, because Stephen certainly deserves it right now."

"Yeah, he sure does."

Jon returned to business as usual the next morning, donning his sleek business suit as he sipped his cup of coffee while looking over scripts. His sudden absence the day before led the network to air a rerun instead, and Jon knew he would have to return quickly before the rumor mill started up too heavily. If he was gone for more than two days he knew he'd probably find an article about him somewhere reporting that he ended up in rehab with a sex and drug addiction or something.

None of the other correspondents had visited Stephen yet, as Jon had warned them about his condition. They obeyed and stayed away from the hospital, but were sure to order a nice bouquet of flowers, a box of chocolates, or a patriotically-dressed teddy bear to be sent to his hospital room as soon as possible. John Oliver was the first to place his order, being the first one other than Jon to have seen the severity of his fall. He had called Jon the night before, along with everyone else at Comedy Central, to ask about his condition when Jon explained the whole ordeal. The network cleared Jon and Stephen's vacation time, telling them to "take all the time you need." Jon was beginning to feel a little frazzled by all the phone calls, and he couldn't really imagine all the calls Evie and the kids were getting at home. Stephen had a huge family, and if just one caught wind of the story, whether some facts were skewed or not, they would surely be calling to get the details.

"Have you heard anything else about Stephen?" John asked with a concerned look.

"I visited with him for quite a while yesterday… as far as I know he's still doing fine."

"That's good. Me and the other guys sent over some flowers and stuff… get well soon cards and all that."

"That was nice of you guys. I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"If he still remembers us…"

"If not, he definitely will soon," Jon sighed as he looked into his cup of coffee.

_At least I hope he does._

Jon had quickly finished the day's episode and the writing meetings for the next day so he could run down to the hospital and visit his dear friend. After a change of clothes (the usual gray t-shirt and khaki pants), he walked down the street toward the nearest deli. Inside, he ordered he and Stephen sandwiches and cups of soup to bring to him for lunch, knowing that hospital food was just one tiny step above prison fare. He clutched the two bags tightly in hand as he strolled down the street with the sun shining brightly on his face for another three blocks.

The pleasant aroma of the warm lunch was cut short as soon as Jon stepped into the hospital again. The sickening scent of disinfectant and the faint smell of blood overpowered the deliciousness, and it almost made Jon want to throw up. He weakly waved to the nurses at the nurse's station as he strode confidently toward Stephen's room.

Jon quietly entered room 225 after noticing that the other bed behind the curtain was now occupied by a middle-aged man who was snoring soundly. Jon went behind the tightly-shut curtain to find Stephen propped up in bed with the sun surprisingly streaming through the thick glass windows. His eyes were fixed on a crossword puzzle in the newspaper in front of him, and Evie had apparently dropped off a spare pair of glasses, as they were perched high on his nose again.

"Jon," he whispered softly with a smile, putting down the paper and pen. "Nice to see you."

"Wow… you're looking well," Jon commented. The color had returned to his skin, and the stark white bandages on his arms and head now seemed much lighter than his skin color, unlike it had been the day before. The IV needles had been removed from his arms, along with the rest of the beeping monitors.

"Thanks… but I've got this roommate now, and he snores so goddamn loud!" he laughed just as the mysterious light-haired roommate let out a loud snort in his sleep. "I just want to get out of this room for awhile… the nurses said it would be okay if someone took me outside in a wheelchair."

"Have you been walking around yet?" Jon asked curiously.

"Yeah, I can walk around a little bit, but I start to get dizzy and my head hurts when I do too much."

Jon caught the hint. "I can get a wheelchair if you want and we can go eat in this sunroom that I saw on the other wing… then maybe take a stroll outside or something if you're ready."

For the first time since Jon's arrival, Stephen eyed the two bags of takeout food that he was holding.

"I thought I smelled something good," he grinned, "And thank you for coming to save me, because this food tastes like _shit."_

"Oh, what's on the menu today?"

"Stewed tomatoes." Both of them gagged simultaneously.

"Seriously?" Jon gasped. "I wouldn't eat that." "I'm glad you brought something else."

With that, Jon got up and sauntered out into the hallway, where he met one of the nurses who was about to enter to probably make sure that the two patients were still breathing.

"Hello," she greeted kindly with a smile.

"Hi," Jon replied, "I was wondering… would it be okay if I got a wheelchair and took Stephen outside for awhile… you know, to get some fresh air?"

"Um, yeah, he's doesn't have any intravenous needles in him anymore, so he can go out for a while. Just don't go too far… and you have to sign him out first."

"Thank you," Jon replied as he signed the clipboard she had handed him. He then rushed off to grab a wheelchair from by the nurse's station and jogged back with it in front of him to keep the food from getting too cold.

"Need help getting up?" Jon asked his friend, offering a hand.

Stephen flipped off the covers and swung his feet over the side of the bed, cautiously taking his first steps. His bare legs were shaky, so Jon held a sturdy grip on his arm as he guided him to sit down.

"Should I really go out wearing this?" Stephen muttered, "Half of my ass sticks out in the back!"

"As long as you don't stand up, I think you'll be fine," Jon laughed.

"Oh, God…"

"Just cross your legs, Nancy, and you'll be golden!"

Jon rocked Stephen's wheelchair back and ran out of the room popping a wheelie. Stephen was hollering all the way down the hall on account of the speed they were going, and they nearly took out another patient that wasn't lucky enough to have someone pushing their wheelchair. Jon gripped Stephen's shoulders, which were bare from the deep neck on the thin cotton gown, and accelerated even faster.

"Weeee!" Stephen yelled once they were out of earshot from the nurse's station. "Jesus, Jon! Don't flip the fucking chair over!"

They made it to the beautifully-decorated sunroom in a matter of seconds. It had many chairs and tables with books, magazines, and puzzles perched on them, and the room was painted a cheery shade of yellow. Jon rolled Stephen over to the window where they could see across Manhattan and directly to the Statue of Liberty. Stephen just gazed out the window down at the street, where hundreds of people looked like mere tiny ants. Feeling taken in by the situation, Stephen reached up and wrapped his arm around Jon's, which almost made him jump a little. His warm touch was nice, but it was so unlike Stephen's usual personality. Stephen gripped his arm tightly across his chest, pulling him close, and slowly Jon's hand headed down the collar of Stephen's shirt to his bare chest covered in a light dusting of dark hair.

"What are you doing, Stephen?" Jon whispered, careful not to let anyone else hear.

"I like you, Jon."

"And I like you, too, Stephen…" Jon was about to add, 'but not like that,' but that statement wouldn't be entirely true. Jon had always viewed Stephen as a very attractive man, the way his dark hair flowed just right and the way those deep brown, sorrowful eyes stared longingly back at him. They were looking at him now, and it almost seemed like they were burning his heart. Jon had never told _anyone _that he was attracted to his co-worker, and apparently neither did Stephen. It would be wrong for a romantic relationship to happen between them. They were married with five beautiful children between them, and their wives were caring, compassionate women.

The conversation ended there, and Stephen let go of Jon's arm. Jon walked over to a stack of outdated issues of _National Geographic, _and grabbed a board game: _Life. _

"Want to play this after we eat?" Jon asked, holding up the box for him to see. It pained Stephen to turn his neck from the window, but he did slowly, and nodded.

"Yeah, that's fine."

Jon wheeled Stephen closer to a table and set the bags of food down. He pulled up a chair and sat across from him silently before looking up to find Stephen watching him intently.

"I brought you a turkey sandwich on wheat… with chicken noodle soup… it was the soup of the day," Jon said finally. He handed Stephen the carefully-wrapped sandwich and Styrofoam cup of soup, and Stephen immediately flipped the plastic lid off the steaming hot liquid. Jon handed him a spoon before he could lap it up like a cat or something, and he took a long slurp.

"Wow.. That's still hot…" he said, blowing slightly on the next spoonful, "but it's pretty good."

Jon took a bite out of his sandwich and nodded before wiping the corners of his mouth to speak.

"I've always liked their soup."

Stephen's eyes met his glance for a moment and Jon immediately paused.

"What?" Jon giggled at Stephen's steely gaze.

"I've always liked _you, _Jon," he said finally with a meek grin, repeating what he had just revealed by the window.

Jon wanted to smile and agree with him deep down, but he knew he just couldn't do that. Instead, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a printed page detailing the specifics of the vacation they would be taking together the next week. Offering a weeklong vacation wasn't exactly a way of letting Stephen down, Jon thought, but those feelings would have to be dealt with later.

"What's that?" Stephen said as he looked down at the piece of paper.

"Next week… we're going on vacation! To South Carolina… the beach!" Jon cheered almost a little too eagerly. "I reserved this beach house for us."

"A beach house?" he questioned as he stared at the paper. "It looks pretty nice to me. I need to get away for awhile, but what about work?"

"I took the week off for the both of us."

Stephen put the spoon back in the empty cup of soup he had devoured so quickly, placed his hands behind his head, and took a deep breath, entranced in thought. He closed his eyes for a moment as Jon awaited his reply.

"That sounds _great,"_ he answered, smoothing out his ruffled dark hair on the top of his head above the bandages. "Now I just need to get out of here by then."

"I think you'll enjoy it," Jon replied before taking another bite of his sandwich. "Plus it's got satellite TV in case it rains."

Stephen wasn't about to stop Jon from whisking him away to a breezy vacation in his home state. He wanted to go back home, to clear his mind for awhile and to regain his thoughts. He figured he had sustained a pretty bad case of brain trauma considering his room was now filled with gifts and flowers from people he didn't remember. Maybe they were just dedicated fans, but he was starting to think about certain things. He was beginning to remember certain things about Jon's life… his family. Were those his kids? Stephen didn't know, his mind was still in a fog.

He and Jon spent the rest of the afternoon in the sunroom together as they played a few games of _Life. _Stephen's tiny plastic car game piece was always filled with the most kids, to which Jon laughed and said, "You Catholics and your huge brood of kids."

Stephen looked down at the red car, now jam-packed with tiny blue and pink pegs, so many that some were stacked on top of one another in a pyramid shape. Jon became a little uneasy but just a little bit excited when Stephen choose a blue peg as his spouse when they landed on the mandatory marriage space. He looked up and gave Jon a precarious glance before putting the tiny peg into its rightful space in the passengers seat. He almost looked a little heartbroken to find that Jon had placed a bright pink peg in his blue car.

"Who's that supposed to be?" he asked, almost snidely as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's…" Jon wracked his brain for what he should answer. It would have been wise to explain to Stephen who Tracey was, especially if Stephen would have to live in their home for a few days before the trip, but Jon just couldn't come up with the words to tell him. He quickly removed the pink peg and replaced it with a blue one. Stephen leaned back in his chair, arms still crossed, and cocked an eyebrow at Jon before smiling his beautiful smile.

"Is that better?" Jon asked nervously.

"Yes," he laughed as he watched Jon spin the rainbow spinner to see what he would have to pay for a honeymoon prize to Jon. Then it hit him as hard as a wall of bricks: Jon was married to someone… a woman. What was her name? Terri? T-Tammy? Tracey. That was it. Tracey. And they had kids. Nate and Maggie. Stephen all of a sudden felt sick. He really _loved _Jon, but it was difficult for him to decipher where exactly those feelings were coming from at that moment.

The game went on for another hour as both of them collected children, paid for "fine art," and engaged in winning Nobel Peace Prizes as their game pieces circled the board. The sun was visibly beginning to dim outside as it sunk below the horizon again, sending streaks of orange, yellow, and pink across the New York skyline. They reached the last space on the board, retirement, and began counting the money they had collected throughout the game.

"You know what?" Stephen asked out of the blue as he watched Jon finish counting his colorful money, "I'm keeping my promise."

"What? What promise is that?" Jon said with a smile before realizing he had lost his count again.

"The day that you retire from _The Daily Show, _I'll retire from _The Report_."

Jon placed the fistful of play money on the table and looked at Stephen's sincere smile.

"Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Flash of Genius (4/?)

**Author: **kkbeatlesfan

**Characters/Pairings: **Jon Stewart, "Stephen Colbert"

**Rating: **R, for language.

**Disclaimer: A**ll television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**Author's Note: So, chapter four. I had almost had a mini-breakdown when I thought I accidentally deleted this chapter, but I didn't, luckily! Yay! **

After they had put away the board game and Jon had practically tucked Stephen back into his rightful bed in hospital room 225, a nurse had declared that visiting hours were over. To Jon, the walk down the noisy but empty streets back to his home were quite lonely without Stephen. He had simply missed his friend's company and beautiful, bright smile. He knew he could never enter a romantic relationship with him as they both secretly longed for. They were both married and had children, after all. It would be pretty damn difficult for them to keep their feelings a secret on their trip to South Carolina, though. Jon could almost vision the soft, cool waves of the surf lapping over them as they kissed in the ocean. He immediately forced the thought out of his mind.

He kept his mind occupied on the ongoing traffic zooming down the dark streets, also making sure no thugs were lurking around the corners to mug him. He was viewed as an easy target considering his five-foot-seven stature, but he had learned to hold his own in a fight quite well when he was a teenager growing up in New Jersey. But back then he had more muscle mass from long hours playing soccer and a certain James Dean-esque bravado about him when he lit up a cigarette. He spotted a group of bums pushing and shoving each other, surrounding a burning barrel of garbage up ahead, so he quickly hailed a cab. He didn't want to be the next one eating nothing but stewed tomatoes and watery Jell-O in a hospital bed that night-or worse.

Jon and Tracey's youngest child, Maggie, was there to greet him at the door when he returned home. He scooped her up in his arms and waved hello to Nate, who was busy putting together a Lego kit on the floor. Jon put Maggie down when he saw Tracey, and he gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"How's Stephen today?" she began.

"Oh, he's gotten a lot better. He's regained the color in his face and everything… they took him off all the IV's too."

"Does he remember anything more?"

"It didn't really seem like he had known who Evie was today, but I'm sure he'll remember soon enough."

"When do the doctors think he'll be able to leave?"

"They told me that they might release him tomorrow if he isn't as dizzy when he stands up. Then he might come to live with us for a day."

Upon overhearing her parents' conversation, Maggie jumped up excitedly and ran over to her father.

"Uncle Stephen is coming to live with us?!" she jumped for joy.

"Yeah, maybe!" Jon replied, scooping her up again. "Just for a little while, probably only a day though."

Maggie sighed with disappointment. "Uncle Stephen," as she called him, was quite more exciting than her real uncle, Larry, who came to visit every once in a while. She had known him all her young life.

"I'll have to get the guest room ready," Tracey added as she stirred the pot of pasta that was simmering on the stovetop.

Jon looked Maggie in the eyes and kneeled down to set her down again.

"Maggie, can you leave me and Mommy alone for a minute to talk?"

The girl nodded and sprinted out of the room to try to join her big brother's activities. Tracey turned to face her husband as he delivered the news.

"Tracey… the thing is… I'm not sure if he would recognize you or the kids, either."

She looked at the floor as she thought: "You mean he literally only remembers _you_?_"_

"I'm still not sure, but I guess I'll have to tell him about you guys before I take him here!"

"Yeah! It would be kind of strange if he's staying with people he doesn't know!"

"I'll go see him tomorrow and ask," Jon said finally. "But I think I should tell Evie."

Jon grabbed the cordless phone off of the kitchen counter and dialed the Colbert residence. Evie picked up after three rings, and Jon could sense the worry in her voice.

"Jon? How's he doing?" she asked immediately.

"He's doing okay now… but he still doesn't remember much."

"Did you figure out his favorite place?"

"Yeah… would you like to take a guess?" Jon felt a little stupid to be playing game show host to Stephen's wife, but she sighed in thought.

"I'm going to say the beach in South Carolina… bordering the Atlantic, right?"

"You're right!" Jon said, a little too excitedly. It was like he'd be announcing she'd won the million-dollar prize.

"Yeah… I love it there, too. We took the kids there so many times…"

"I think after this trip, it'll all come back to him. I think he'll love it."

"I'll have to leave some of his clothes and a spare pair of glasses with you… I dropped off a pair at the hospital."

"How about we meet for lunch tomorrow? It'll be my treat."

She thought for a moment: "Yeah… okay… that sounds good. I'll give you his suitcase then."

They settled out the meeting place and hung up.

Jon was forced to field questions from various Comedy Central employees on the health of Stephen for most of the next day. Some were still sending balloons and flowers, and Jon didn't know how they were going to fit all of them in a cab to take them home. He had a nice lunch with Evie around noon, and she gave him a packed suitcase with all of Stephen's clothes and toiletries, and a framed photo of Stephen, Evie, and the kids at Disney World. Evie had almost broke down to tears again by the end of their meal as they talked about memories, and she wished Jon well and thanked him for taking care of her husband.

"Thank you so much," she said as she hugged him tightly, a single tear still running down her cheek, "You didn't have to do this."

"But I wanted to," he said finally.

"Thank you, Jon. You're a good guy," she waved goodbye as she got into another cab.

He arrived at the hospital room around 3:30, which would give him about four hours with Stephen before visiting hours would end. He walked into room 225 once again to find that Stephen's roommate was now gone and the bed was empty. Behind the curtain, there was Stephen propped up on his many pillows reading the newspaper.

"What happened to your roommate?" Jon asked.

"I guess he went home. I'm kind of glad, because I didn't get much sleep with him snoring over there."

"I hope you didn't suffocate him in his sleep or something," Jon laughed.

"No… I didn't do that," Stephen smiled as he stretched his bandaged arms. His skull wasn't being suffocated under wrapped bandages anymore, for it was now only covered with a palm-sized patch of gauze taped to his forehead, covering his right eyebrow partially. The cast on his left wrist was still stark-white and clean, unsigned by anyone. If Stephen got the go-ahead to stay with the Stewarts, Maggie would probably beg "Uncle Stephen" to sign with all her colorful sets of glitter markers.

"Jon?" Stephen began before clearing his dry throat, "I got a bouquet of those white roses over there from you… and Tracey, and the kids…"

"You remember Tracey and the kids?"

"Yeah…" he rubbed his forehead for a moment and closed his eyes, "I remember Nate and Maggie running around somewhere…"

"That would be them!" Jon said cheerfully. He was glad that Stephen was starting to get some memory back, otherwise he would have quite a bit of explaining to do. He still didn't have the faintest idea who Evie was, and she had chosen to stay away until he did to help his recovery, no matter how difficult it was. A nurse stepped into the room to check on Stephen's coordination to see if he would finally be okay to go home.

"Mr. Colbert, could you please stand up and walk to the wall, then walk back? We just want to see if your coordination has improved."

Stephen obeyed, and walked to the wall and back with ease. Afterward he was feeling a little dizzy, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the day before, so he lied and said he felt fine.

"Good, we should be able to release you today!" the nurse cheered, almost sounding completely thrilled to be getting rid of angry Stephen.

Stephen and Jon nodded. Jon was relieved that they were releasing him, but he wasn't so sure about what was going to happen once he arrived back at the Stewart residence. Tracey had set up the guest room for him to stay as long as he needed, but Jon knew that eventually Stephen's presence might be too much for his family. Sure, they loved having him around and he was always a gracious guest, but things were way different now.

The nurse had given Stephen an hour to be discharged from the hospital, and Jon handed Stephen a fresh change of clothes: a green polo shirt and jeans, with white sneakers, quite a casual look for him. Changing his shirt was quite a challenge for him, though, for his large wrist cast got in the way of his sleeves.

"Jon? Could you help me?" Stephen stretched away at the shirt, which was now halfway over his head and over one arm.

"Sure, Stephen," Jon laughed as he left the bag he was packing for his friend on the chair to help out. He tugged the sleeve over the tacky surface of the clean white cast, and finally Stephen was fully dressed.

"Thanks," he grinned shyly.

Jon finished packing a small black duffle bag with all of Stephen's things and had set it on the edge of the bed as he watched Stephen examining himself in the mirror. He hadn't shaved at all since his arrival at the hospital, leaving a dark cover of stubble on his face that Jon had never recalled seeing before. Stephen was always so clean-shaven and his hair always was placed the right way, but Jon actually liked this side of his friend better. A laid-back, relaxed side that was in no rush to go back to work just yet. Jon started to feel a little uneasy as he watched his friend slowly peeling away the gauze that was stuck to his forehead, covering the large gash he sustained.

"Come on, don't do that now," Jon scolded. Stephen jumped at his stern tone and turned to look him in the eyes.

"Sorry. You're right, I shouldn't pick at it," he frowned. With that, he grabbed a tongue depressor from the bedside table and shoved it down inside his wrist cast. He looked up to find Jon giving him a questionable look.

"What? It itches like hell!" he laughed, and Jon soon followed.

"Well, I guess when the nurse comes back we can tell her we're leaving."

"Yeah, let's check out of the Hell Hotel," Stephen scoffed. "Are they going to give me the usual ride to the front door in the wheelchair?"

"Oh yeah, they have to."

Five minutes later, the nurse arrived back at the room and told them it was time to go. Stephen and Jon glanced at each other and smirked when she pushed the wheelchair in the room and asked him to sit down. He obeyed, and Jon followed them down the hallway as Stephen asked the nurse his usual totally out there questions.

"Can you pop a wheelie with his sucker?"

"No," she said calmly, without even cracking a smile.

"Can you spin me around real fast? Like a donut?"

"No," the middle-aged brunette replied as she shook her head.

Jon had a permanent smile plastered on his face as he listened to Stephen's conversation with the uptight nurse. They finally made it through the lengthy elevator ride after Stephen had pressed every floor button on the panel as a joke, which even annoyed the nurse more, and they made it to the first floor. The sun was streaming through the large windows in the lobby, and Stephen was excited to be leaving… as was the nurse assigned to care for him. Jon hailed a cab outside and Stephen stood from his wheelchair.

"Stay safe, Mr. Colbert!" the nurse hollered over her shoulder as she headed back into the hospital, not wanting any more demands from her patient.

"Uh, you too!" he yelled back, still smirking from their elevator adventure. A cab finally pulled up to the curb and Jon opened the door for Stephen and shut it behind him, then whirled around to get in beside him. He gave the driver directions to his apartment and then they were off. Stephen was going to have a "sleepover", as Maggie had called it, at Jon's house.

"Thanks again for letting me stay with you guys, Jon. I really appreciate it."

"It's really no problem. We have the guest room all set up for you already."

"Wow. That should be great."

"Yeah, I'm sure Tracey will put little chocolates on the pillows and everything when we get there!" They both chuckled.

A few minutes later they were at Jon's home, the first moment of a very exciting week together.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Flash of Genius (5/?)

**Author: **kkbeatlesfan

**Rating: **R, for language.

**Summary: **Stephen arrives at Jon's house to see Tracey and the kids, and his feelings are getting more and more difficult to hide.

**Disclaimer: **All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

Stephen and Jon stepped out of the cab at Jon's sprawling Manhattan apartment complex, and Stephen was feeling a little uneasy. He wasn't quite certain if it was his throbbing head injury or the high-strength pain medication flowing through his veins, but he had the theory that at least part of it could be a cause of his unsure feelings for his best friend. He never recalled having feelings like those toward Jon Stewart before, but hell, now he could hardly remember anything. It was all just a bunch of useless faint memories that all blurred together with people he no longer recognized. It was as if he was attempting to bring back the events from a dream the night before: just a distant idea that he wasn't even sure really happened, and an even smaller idea of what the hell it all means for the future. Maybe something, but it could still be nothing.

"Well, here we are," Jon grinned as he hefted Stephen's suitcase out of the trunk of the bright yellow cab, trying to hurry to be sure not to piss off the driver.

Stephen, on the other hand, just stood on the sidewalk and stared upward past many stories of windows in the complex. Between the sights, the sounds, his own thoughts, and that god awful smell that lurked over the city all the time, he had no idea what to think. It was all just one huge clusterfuck.

"You live… on which floor again?" Stephen asked, trying to seem as if he just casually forgot.

"Top floor. 20th floor. We have the entire floor to ourselves."

He just nodded at his friend's response as he felt the sun radiating off the hot asphalt street and concrete sidewalks. Jon pushed through the front doors into the lobby with Stephen moping along behind him, taking in the sights as if it had been totally new to him, even though he had been there hundreds of times. Jon noticed.

"Are you okay, Stephen? You seem kind of… zoned-out."

"No, I'm okay. I just haven't been thinking straight since my accident."

_Goddamn right I'm not thinking straight, _he thought, _What even happened to me? Car crash? No… a mugging… no, that's not it. That's right… I fell off a desk and almost died. I almost fucking died from falling off a piece of office equipment, and now I'm falling in love with Jon. Is that new?_

Stephen certainly had time to think about it as an overwhelming silence covered them as they rode the elevator up to the twentieth floor. When they finally arrived, Jon pulled out his set of keys from his pocket and jiggled the key in the lock of the thick wooden door and stepped inside with Stephen following like a lost puppy again. They stepped over the threshold to find Tracey and the kids surrounding the kitchen island, eating their lunches of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (crunchy peanut butter, not creamy, grape jelly, crusts cut off) and carrot sticks. A large chalkboard hung behind them on the wall, which simply read: "Breathe, Dream, Believe," in large font scrawled in colorful chalks of pink, blue, and yellow.

"Stephen's here!" Jon called out, getting an immediate reaction from his kids, especially the youngest.

"Hey, Stephen…" Tracey began, but soon was cut off by her daughter's delightful cheers.

"Uncle Stephen!" she yelled as loud as her small lungs would allow, "You're really gonna stay with us?!"

"Yeah, Maggie, I am!" he replied enthusiastically, trying to hide his pain, "Come here!"

The young girl hopped off the stool she was seated on and slid across the tiled floor over to one of her favorite people, even though this time he looked… different. Beat-up, just like that one kid she had seen at school who was punched over and over again and thrown into the wall by some bullies. Still, her childish facial expression was filled with such joy that Stephen couldn't help but smile himself. He leaned down to give her a hug, trying not to scratch her with the tacky surface of his arm cast.

"We made cookies for you," she breathed into his shirt.

"Oh you did? You didn't have to!" he replied in an almost screechy child's voice, one that he had used on his own kids when they were young.

"I set up the guest room already if Jon wants to get you all settled in," Tracey offered, motioning toward her husband.

"This way," he gestured down the hallway. Stephen followed Jon down to his room, where the hall was covered with framed photographs of the city beside the kids' dog-eared artwork from years gone by. Jon reached the end and swung open a dark wooden door to reveal Stephen's new hospitable living quarters. The wooden floor was covered by a dark gray area rug, white curtains partially covered the windows to let in a peek of afternoon sunlight, and the bed was covered with freshly-laundered white sheets with a burgundy throw. On a small desk in the corner sat a laptop computer and a lamp.

"Wow, Jon… thank you," Stephen said, taking in the room. It really was nice. A lot better than many hotels he'd stayed in.

"No problem. We had the extra room, so we just figured it would be easier for you," Jon ran his hand through his hair out of nervousness. All of a sudden his suppressed feelings for Stephen were bubbling back to the surface again, "I guess I should let you freshen up."

Stephen nodded his friend goodbye as he stepped out into the hallway and gently closed the door behind him. Stephen was now on his own. He unzipped his suitcase that was packed with clothes and toiletries and fished out his toothpaste and toothbrush, comb, razor and shaving cream. He wandered into the attached bathroom and set them all down on the counter beside the sink and took a good look in the mirror. He knew he looked like hell, and he realized that it was why Jon was looking at him differently. It wasn't the real him. The bandages were haphazardly strapped across his forehead, his glasses were hanging awkwardly over his nose, and a patchy three-day beard covered the lower half of his face. He knew he needed to get rid of it.

After grabbing a clean towel from the cupboard, he lathered his unusually stubbly face with shaving cream. He poised the razor in his slightly trembling hand and took the first clean swipe.

_What do I care what I look like? I'm on vacation, _he stopped the razor halfway down his left cheek and stared into his own deep, expressive brown eyes.

He was doing it for Jon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors Note: Yes! New chapter! I'm proud of myself for writing this during Thanksgiving break… sorry it's kinda late. Anyway, this chapter is just light and fluffy, so enjoy it!**

Stephen could hear the soft echo of laughter from Jon and Maggie through the walls of the apartment as he struggled to pull a clean, black t-shirt over his head after a long, relaxing shower.

"Damn," he thought to himself, "Why can't that be me?"

Jon had a life already with his wife and two beautiful children, and just the thought of it made Stephen's heart ache. He had nothing, or so he thought, and Jon _wasn't _his. Never could be. He was too busy being married to Tracy, an intelligent and stunning woman, and that was that.

"Maggie, will you please just try on the sweater?" Jon tried to coax his daughter as she galloped through the living room.

"No!" she shrieked loudly with a high-pitched giggle.

Stephen turned the corner into the room to find his best friend, a grown man, stooped close to the floor holding an adorably tiny pink and gray argyle sweater in his outstretched arms, pleading with his little girl. They caught each other's glances a second later and grinned. How could Stephen not love him? "Sorry to bother you with the noise," Jon apologized sheepishly.

Stephen attempted to reply, but before he could, Maggie came hurdling toward him with outstretched arms. He caught her and held her close as she buried her face into the front of his shirt.

"Uncle Stephen?" she asked shyly, lifting her head slightly from his chest to look into his eyes.

"Yes, Maggie?"

"Could you tell Daddy that Mommy said that the sweater doesn't go with these pants?"

Maggie could hear a faint rumbling laugh in his chest as he shot a jokingly shaming look at Jon.

"Jon, what were you thinking? These two definitely don't go together," he said, gesturing both to the sweater still in his friend's grasp and the red-tinted jeans that Maggie was wearing. Jon just smirked and said to his rambunctious child: "Okay, Mags. What would _you_ like to wear for the banquet tomorrow?"

The young girl padded off into her room to pick out the perfect outfit for the next day's mother and daughter social at her school, leaving Jon and Stephen with some time alone to talk amongst themselves.

"Where's Tracey and Nate?" Stephen asked as he settled into the couch beside his friend.

"They went out shopping," Jon explained, "and Maggie wanted to stay here with me."

"Hmmm… just to torment you?"

Jon laughed, "No, but she just loves having you around the house."

With that being said, they could hear her down the hall in her room, seemingly rearranging the place.

"Uncle Stephen! Come here!" she called out to him.

Stephen shrugged, got up from the couch, and started up the hallway. Rounding the corner, he could get a clear view into the girl's colorfully-painted bedroom. It was painted a bright and cheery shade of yellow, and the walls and bedspread had a repeating sunflower theme. Maggie was seated cross-legged on the floor in the corner, fiddling with characters and furniture in her nicely-sized dollhouse.

"Can you play dolls with me?" she asked him sweetly. "Daddy doesn't know how to play right. Everyone always leaves and never comes back when he plays."

He almost backed away, and she could tell. She made the trademarked childhood "sad and incredibly disappointed" face until he finally gave in and sat down beside her.

"Okay, how do I play?" he questioned with a clap of his hands.

She thought for a moment before she picked up a brown-haired, half-undressed Ken doll and offered it to him.

"You have to be the boy," she explained, "His name is Jason, and he's married to Sam." She then held up a blond Barbie with chopped-off hair ending at her shoulders, which Stephen figured was Sam.

"Why did you name them Sam and Jason?" Stephen questioned, faintly recalling those names from somewhere in his past.

"I don't know, really. Daddy works with Sam and Jason. They're married, you know. And they come over to dinner sometimes."

"Oh," Stephen nodded. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he could recall memories of Samantha Bee and Jason Jones, but at the moment he couldn't access any of them. Now his world was small and incomplete from what it used to be, but everything seemed eerily okay for him. Jon, Tracey, and the kids were the only people that truly mattered to him.

"It's a beach day, so that's why they're wearing swimsuits," Maggie explained, snapping Stephen back to reality. "But before we play dolls, can we please have a tea party?"

Stephen nodded slowly, "Okay, I guess so."

Without another word, Maggie began shuffling in an opened toy box beside the bed and returned with two teacups, two saucers, and a small teapot. She got up and set them at a child-sized table in the opposite corner of the room, then returned to dig out two feathered boas, two red ladies' hats, and two pairs of white, beaded, sparkly gloves.

"What are those for?" Stephen asked, almost showing the horror in his voice.

"You have to dress up for the party, silly!" she laughed, tossing one of each article of clothing at him. She knew damn well how big of a blow to Stephen's ego this was.

Stephen uncrossed his legs and stood, slowly making his way over to the tiny table across the room as he wrapped the green feathered boa around his neck and poised the hat on his head. He polished off the look with the white gloves before taking a seat on the floor, not wanting to risk breaking one of Maggie's rainbow-shaded chairs.

"Okay, now are you happy?" he asked. She glanced up at him and exploded into a fit of giggles.

"Yes!" she cheered, "Daddy, you have to come see this! Look at Uncle Stephen!"

She poured Stephen a cup of pretend tea, and the party began.

"Okay, Miss Maggie, what will we be doing today?" he asked in a high-pitched woman's voice that elicited another laugh from the girl.

"Well, first of all, we'll be finishing our tea party. Then we play dolls," she said, trying her best to mimic a British accent.

"Oh, you're trying out a Brit accent? Very good," he praised, slipping back into his manly voice.

"Uncle Stephen! Come on! Stay in character!" she prodded. Oh, where oh where had he heard _that_ phrase before?

Jon could hear the giggles streaming down the hallway into the living room, where he was now attempting to finish the morning's crossword while lounging on the couch. He realized that Stephen and Maggie must have been having too good of a time to pass up, so he soon put down his pen and paper, removed his cheap reading glasses that he'd never thought he'd need, and wandered down the hall to his daughter's room. He turned the corner to find the younger man sitting cross-legged on the floor, wearing a completely ridiculous but hilarious dress-up outfit, beside his young daughter, who was too busy pouring pretend tea to notice him. Stephen was so good with the kids, Jon thought, but he was good with _his _kids. The ones he sadly had no recollection of.

Stephen actually seemed to be enjoying himself for the first time in the days since the accident, and Jon couldn't help but smile. He was completely _adorable, _and though he'd never admit it out loud, Jon felt the endearing scene that was playing out before him pulling at his heart strings. Stephen finally looked up at Jon and caught his gaze, before shaking his head and giving him the "I-can't-fucking-believe-that-I'm-actually-enjoying-this" face. It was incredible.

Jon decided to join in on all the fun and action, and the two best friends played with Maggie for a good hour before her energy finally dwindled. There they were, two grown men wearing ridiculous costumes with a little girl in between that was now fast asleep. Maggie's head was resting softly on Stephen's shoulder as Jon swiped a few stray hairs away from her face. That moment meant so much to their relationship, and it didn't matter if it was fifteen minutes of silent bliss.

"I suppose I should put her to bed," Jon said finally in a whisper that was barely audible.

Stephen nodded. "I'll help you."

Stephen gingerly picked up Maggie's head from his shoulder and helped Jon pick her up without waking her. Jon slowly carried her over to the bed, pulled back the flowery sheets, tucked her in, and kissed her. Stephen and Jon quietly wrestled their way out of their dress-up clothes and placed them back in the toy box before heading back in the living room.

"Thanks for being such a good sport," Jon said as he patted Stephen on the back.

Stephen's smile still hadn't subsided, and he felt absolutely euphoric under Jon's simple pat on the shoulder. The day couldn't have gotten any better for him. Brown eyes glistening, he turned to Jon and let him know how much he was truly enjoying himself.

"I really liked that," he laughed, "It was a lot of fun."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: So, welcome to the seventh chapter! I wouldn't expect this story to end anytime soon, because I have an overload of ideas for this one. Have you noticed that right after the accident in this story the character of Stephen was very much like "Stephen", but now as he progresses his relationship with Jon he becomes more like just Stephen? See what I did there? It's just a coming-of-age story, even though both Stephen and character "Stephen" are both in their late forties. :D Anyway, enjoy this chapter. I have no idea where the inspiration for this one came from, and to tell you the truth, it's a little angsty, yet a little bit fluffy. I have no idea. **

Stephen tossed and turned violently in his sleep, restlessly being immersed in a terrifying nightmare. He finally awoke mid-scream as he yelled loudly into the dark and desolate guest bedroom of Jon's house. He broke out into a cold sweat as he just laid there in bed, panting and trying his best to regain his composure. He hoped-prayed even-that Jon or anyone else didn't hear him screaming down the hall, because he couldn't bear to explain the horrible dream to him. He quickly flicked on the bedside lamp and sat up, rubbed his tired eyes, brushed his dark hair away from his face, and tried to wipe the nightmare out of his mind. He kept reassuring himself that it was never going to happen; Jon was never going to take in his last breaths in Stephen's arms, his life shortened significantly and cruelly by outside intervention. _It couldn't happen!_

If Stephen kept telling himself this, why did he still feel so damn terrified? His heart was racing, beads of sweat were appearing on his forehead, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. He hardly ever cried, and he never cried in front of Jon, so it didn't make matters any better when he heard those familiar footsteps making their way down the hall and into his room.

"Stephen?" Jon's voice called out into the darkness, "Are you okay? I heard you scream…"

Jon entered the room, lit only by the glow of the lamp, but Stephen couldn't see him anyway. Between his pathetic vision problems without his glasses and the tears now flooding his eyes, he couldn't see a damn thing. He quickly wiped away the tears with the back of his arm hoping that Jon hadn't seen before replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry I woke you up… I had a bad dream," he stuttered, still clearly shaken. He had secretly expected-or hoped-that Jon would just disregard his tearful stutter and return to his own bedroom. But he didn't. He stayed.

"Are you going to be okay?" the older man asked as he stepped closer, squinting slightly to get a clearer view of his friend.

Stephen nodded slowly, but Jon wasn't buying it. He bravely sat down on the bed next to his friend, whose eyes were red, puffy, and diverted to the rug beneath his feet. He didn't know why, but all of a sudden he reached over and rubbed small, reassuring circles along Stephen's back like he would to a small child. He was always so protective of Stephen, and he couldn't bear to see him so depressed.

"What was this dream about? It was _that _bad that it brought you to tears?" he asked finally, feeling the awkward silence between them floating through the night air.

"I'm not crying… I have some dust in my eye," Stephen retorted quickly, swiftly avoiding the question. Jon could see right through his bullshit, though, and he wasn't about to let him get away with it. He flopped onto the bed and kicked his way to the side opposite the younger man until they were laying parallel to each other. He was going to let him know that he wasn't about to leave. He was standing his ground.

"What are you doing, Jon?" he asked, his voice still shaky.

"I'm not leaving this bed until you tell me what's up. Because that's what friends do: piss you off until you spill the beans."

Stephen looked over at him and smirked slightly, which pleased Jon. He was already winning this game. The younger man settled in back under the covers as he reiterated: "It's nothing. I'm fine. And I'm going back to sleep."

"People just don't scream bloody murder in the middle of the night when nothing is wrong, in their dreams or otherwise. And like I said, you will tell me, because I'll be here _all night_."

Stephen decided to ignore him as he reached over to shut off the lamp, removed his glasses, and placed them back on the bedside table. He pushed his head back into the downy pillow again, anticipating that Jon would just let him go back to sleep. The next day would be busy after all, being the last day that they would be staying in the city before heading off to South Carolina. He wasn't telling him anything about it. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The darkness beyond his closed eyelids only was present for a few seconds until he could sense light in the room again. He opened his eyes slowly to find Jon propped up on his elbow, staring down at him, with the lamp on _his _side of the bed turned on.

_Damn it, _he thought, _he isn't going to forget about this. And I wish that I had some ear plugs and an eye mask._

"You going to tell me now?" Jon smirked.

"No. No I'm not."

"Well, you're sure as hell not going back to sleep, either."

There were a few moments of complete silence until Stephen finally gave in. He propped himself up higher on his pillow, and swallowed thickly.

"Okay, I will, if you just shut that goddamn lamp off. The light is giving me a headache." That was really a lie: he didn't want Jon to see him crying again in case the tears started rolling. Jon luckily obeyed, and they were in complete darkness again, the only noise coming from the whirring ceiling fan above them. Both men fell silent as Stephen conjured up the words to tell him the horrible story.

"Okay," he began, "I had this dream, and you were in it…"

"Ooh! Goodie!" Jon joked, eliciting a laugh into the darkened room.

"No, not in this case."

"Oh."

"And we were at a party, with a whole bunch of people… strangers. One minute I turn around to see you, dancing around and shit, and the next you were down on the floor."

He swallowed again, and he could clearly tell that this was going to be difficult. He could hear Jon's asthmatic breathing beside him, and he became nervous.

"And?" Jon's voice rang out, sensing the younger man's long, thought-out pause.

"And so I turn around, and you're on the floor in a pool of blood. Someone calls 911 and I stay there to hold a cloth on your gunshot wound."

"Wait… I was shot?!"

"Yes!" Stephen sobbed, feeling fresh, hot tears tumbling down his cheeks. "So the ambulance finally arrives and takes you away, but they push me back and say I can't be with you on the ride to the hospital…"

"Those bastards."

"So I hail a cab and follow behind, but when I get there, I have to run down these long stretches of endless white hallway to your room. When I finally get to you, your doctor stops me and says that there's nothing else that could be done. You end up _dying_ in my arms."

"Oh my God… that's terrible."

"Yeah? Well you begged me to tell you!" he sputtered, his voice cracking. All of a sudden he felt a warm hand that wasn't his softly caressing his face, gently wiping away his tears.

"Stephen," Jon began gruffly, beginning to feel a lump in his throat just by seeing Stephen so upset, "I'm not going anywhere."

"That was the end of the dream. There's nothing else to it. That's it."

"No, I mean that _I'm _not going anywhere. I'm going to be with you for a long, long time."

Stephen took a deep breath as he finally understood.

"I know."

The night fell silent upon them again as Jon didn't quite keep his promise. He was supposed to leave the bed if Stephen explained the dream, but yet he stayed, in a bundle of bunched-up sheets, right next to his best friend. Not once did either one of them silently wish that the other would leave the room.

Not once.

**Author's Note: Awww… Jon and Stephen are so completely adorable together! Sorry this chapter was such an odd amalgam of angst and fluff… that doesn't happen a lot here in fan fiction land. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you REVIEW! ****J -kkbeatlesfan**

**P.S. Isn't Stephen's smile gorgeous? I mean, **_**he **_**is gorgeous, but that **_**smile, **_**those **_**eyes…**_** Ooh la la! Haha!**

**P.S.S. So… I've started another Jon/"Stephen" fic that I'm hoping to finish by Christmas, because it's Christmas-themed. It's based on the song "Wednesday Morning, 3 AM" by Simon and Garfunkel (one of my favorite groups, by the way, so don't even get me started) and a quote by Stephen in the September 17, 2009 issue of **_**Rolling Stone **_**where he was asked, "Do you ever dream in character?" Try to piece this one together:**

"_**I dreamed last week that as a bit, my character holds up a liquor store. And it doesn't go well. I end up shooting someone twice." **_**-Stephen**

**Lyric to "Wednesday Morning, 3 AM", written by Paul Simon:**

"_**Oh, what have I done? Why have I done it? I've committed a crime, I've broken the law. For 25 dollars in pieces of silver I held up and robbed a hard liquor store. Oh my life seems unreal, my crime and illusion, a scene I have written in which I must play, yet I know as I gaze at my young love beside me, the morning is just a few hours away."**_

**Hmmm… what's going to happen? Haha! Anyway, if "Stephen" holding up a liquor store sounds at all intriguing to you, stay tuned. By the way, I really enjoyed the two times that Paul Simon made an appearance on the **_**Report, **_**especially when Stephen asked him, "So, what were you and Julio doing down by the schoolyard?" I guess only Paul Simon/Simon & Garfunkel fans would get it. :D**

**Okay, I'm done with this author's note. Informative? Maybe. Worthless? Probably.**


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